Eye of the Beholder
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Beautiful: Having qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, and think about. *Contains M/M Slash*


**Eye of the Beholder**

He was doing it again. Watching. The intensity of his gaze made Kane's skin itch. Which also made it incredibly difficult to feign sleep. Kane focused on keeping his breathing deep and even. Tried not to twitch as the minutes ticked by. He had no clue how long Chris had been at it. No idea how often he got away with it when Kane was actually unconscious. But the whole thing freaked him out and he wished Chris would quit it.

Because Chris Jericho did not look at him the way other people did. The way Kane was used to.

The world was made up of two types. The ones that ignored his scars because they made the onlooker uncomfortable and the ones that, no matter how hard they tried, simply could not look away. If he had to choose, Kane preferred the first group. It encompassed a larger amount of the population. Upon first meeting, their eyes tended to slide from the ruined half of Kane's face until they landed on a more neutral area. Sometimes focusing on the side the fire had not seen fit to destroy. They talked to Kane's neck or his chest or didn't bother to look at him at all.

It's been a long time since Kane had taken any of it personally. That was the way people chose to cope. In fact, Kane considered that form of treatment almost polite. There was nothing worse than a person that stared.

Granted, Kane's opinion changed after letting Chris Jericho into his life.

Not that Chris ever stared. He was not the sort to point out Kane's most glaring flaw. He did not draw attention to the scars. He didn't hold conversations with Kane's feet rather than confront the cruel destruction of his face. Quite the contrary. Chris looked Kane directly in the eyes. Not in the forehead or at his nose. Sometimes his eyes wandered to Kane's mouth, but only when he had kissing on his mind.

Even when they weren't speaking, Chris looked. When possible, he chose to sit across from Kane instead of next to him. If he did sit next to him, he chose the ruined side if Kane didn't catch him in time. He was the only lover to ever prefer having sex with the lights on.

That never ceased to boggle Kane's mind. Because he knew what the truth the mirror showed him every day. Knew what he looked like to other people. But, for the life of him, he had not a clue how he looked to Chris. Certainly he could not be that appealing. There was nothing about his appearance to explain Chris' behavior.

Chris Jericho liked to watch. He somehow found everything that Kane did fascinating. Which frustrated Kane to no end. Especially in bed. Chris' eyes rarely left Kane's face. Clouded over with lust, they lingered. Even when being taken from behind, Chris looked back over his shoulder. Gazed longingly at his imperfect lover.

If only Chris' inability to tear his eyes away weren't the absolute hottest thing Kane had ever encountered. Then it would be easier for Kane to ask him to cut it out.

The sleeping thing, though. That disturbed him. It was so odd and unexpected. Kane needed an explanation, but didn't know how to ask. Didn't want to call to attention what was obvious to everyone but Chris. That Kane was a freak, not something to be admired.

Enough was enough.

Kane opened his eyes. He didn't bother pretending to have just woken up only to be surprised to find Chris' face inches from his own. He wanted Chris to know that he had been caught. He expected a look of shock or shame. A nervous smile and a stuttered apology. It would have been ever so satisfying to knock Chris off his guard.

As usual, life proved to be disappointing.

Chris did not flinch at Kane's imposing stare. He did not back away or attempt to hide his blatant voyeurism. Instead, he continued to watch. Perhaps counting Kane's eyelashes. Studying the slope of his forehead. Committing to memory the exact shade of blue of his eyes. A finger traced the curve of Kane's eyebrow. Its tip brushed across his disfigured cheek. The lightest of touches. A delicate caress.

"Beautiful."

In a heartbeat, Kane had Chris on his back. Brought his mouth down in a hard, bruising kiss. An instinctual reaction to keep Chris from talking. Kane could not bear to hear another word. Most certainly not that word again.

The most that he had ever hoped for was to be treated like a normal person. Not pitied. Not the focus of revulsion. He wanted to live his life like everyone else. Kane held no delusions regarding his appearance. He knew to be grateful that the fire had only destroyed half of him. But he would not stand being lied to.

To be called beautiful was far crueler than being called ugly. Ugly was a painful truth, an inescapable reality. Beauty…

Chris Jericho was beautiful. Radiant. Flawless. When Chris laughed, the whole world laughed with him, not at him. He was warm and inviting. Compassionate. Understanding. Forgiving. He was everything Kane might have been if destiny had not chosen to spit in his eye.

Kane wished he could hate him. Chris was the embodiment of everything Kane would never be and never have. He wanted to gorge himself on rage and resentment until he could feel nothing else. Not the pounding of his heart as Chris clung desperately to him. Not the grip of Chris' fingers tangled in his hair. Not the swivel of Chris' hips, grinding his arousal against Kane's belly.

With Chris sucking on his tongue and moaning into his mouth, Kane could almost believe himself worthy of such a gift.

Drawing back, Kane gazed down at his handiwork. Those kiss swollen lips were so enticing. The tip of a pink tongue darting out. Licking. Tasting. Those lips curved into a smile that beckoned. And those eyes, even half-lidded, continued to watch.

Not for the first time, Kane wondered what they saw. When making love, they sometimes closed for a moment, but never longer. Chris never turned his face away. As if he could not bear to miss a single second.

Unbelievable.

Chris Jericho was absolutely unbelievable.

Driven by desire for that mad man, Kane tested his lover's entrance with his fingers. Still slick from their encounter hours earlier. When Chris had ridden him in the pale moonlight. Kane could not be sure if those eyes had been on him then, but he was almost certain. He recalled the urgent rhythm, the fervent moans, the heady scent of their sweat, and the surprisingly soft sighs of his name from his lover's lips. Chris had collapsed onto his chest, spent and satisfied, needing only the steady beat of Kane's heart and the comfort of his enveloping arms to lull him to sleep.

Kane sometimes wondered if this was all a dream. How else could he explain the beautiful man that so eagerly spread his legs before him? The man that reached out for him as he slowly sunk to his core. Chris sang for him alone as his passion grew, as Kane's hips moved faster, as they held each other's gaze. It was almost too perfect to be real.

The fingers tightening around his arm told him to slow down, so he did. Kane slid deep and stayed there. He became the watcher. Took in Chris' flushed cheeks, parted lips, and fluttering eyelids. He basked in that beautiful moment as Chris panted, struggling to catch his breath. Only when he felt his lover squeeze around him did Kane move again. Withdrawing almost his entire length before returning home.

Out, then in. Sometimes gentle, sometimes not. It depended on the mood of the moment. Depended on the note Kane wanted to hear from Chris. A voice like his was yet another thing Kane would never have. Kane grunted and growled. Never sang. Never produced a sound so sweet as to nearly stop a beating heart.

Everything Chris had, he shared. His kindness. His love. His beauty. If all he asked for in return was to look upon Kane's face day after day, that was not too high a price to pay.

Fire coiled in Kane's belly. He ached for release as Chris made music with his name. That one word held such meaning. _I love you. I'm with you. Don't stop._ At that moment, it was so easy to have those eyes on him. Easy to forget about the scars and the pain and the terror that maybe he wasn't good enough because, at that moment, none of it mattered. Chris clung to him. Sang for him. Came for him. Kane would rather be beautiful in those eyes than any others.

Kane gave himself completely. Let flow everything he had. Watched those eyes ease shut as Chris took in his offering. Kane kissed him again. Softly this time, as he did not have the energy to fight what could not be changed.

Fact: Kane was scarred for life.

Fact: Chris loved him anyway.

Fact: Kane could learn to live with that.

**END**


End file.
